Free Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) by Susan Sizemore, Marguerite Krause

dais, but her eyes continued to stare sightlessly past him.
    The front of her gown was dark with blood.
    Pirse ’ s legs buckled. He reached for Dea ’ s hand, and at his touch her body slid off the throne and crumpled into an untidy heap on the tiles.
    “ Rock and Pool, boy, what have you done? ”
    Pirse turned, still on his knees. Captain Cratt strode down the center of the great hall, Uncle Palle at his side. They stopped at the foot of the dais and Palle pointed an accusing finger at Pirse.
    “ What did I tell you? He shirks his real duties, he profanes his sacred trust, and now he thinks to claim the throne! ”
    Cratt ’ s bald head gleamed in the torch light. “ You can ’ t do it, Your Highness. Best to hand over your sword, and trust the Law Readers to judge fairly. ”
    “ My sword? ” Pirse repeated. “ Law Readers? Cratt, what happened here? ”
    “ The queen is dead, ” Palle proclaimed loudly. “ And I, for one, will not stand by and see her murderer profit by it. ”
    “ Her murderer? ” Pirse ’ s voice rose in outrage as he surged to his feet. “ You accuse me? Cratt, you can ’ t possibly believe —”
    “ I ’ ve already examined her, ” the captain interrupted him. “ Anyone who has fought with you will confirm it. There ’ s no mistaking the marks of a dragon sword, and no question that you ’ re the only man in Dherrica to wield one. ” He put one foot on the lowest step of the dais, hands spread in entreaty. A spasm of pain twisted his face. “ You were seen, Highness. The last person to enter the hall before … before she was found. Firstmother help us, the queen is dead. Your sister ’ s dead. Shaper killing Shaper. No more, Highness, I beg you. ”
    The snick of Palle ’ s sword sliding out of its sheath broke through Pirse ’ s stunned disbelief. A drawn weapon, the sense of danger — these things he understood.
    His fingers found the hilt of his sword. Palle ’ s sneering face was the snarling visage of a dragon. Training and experience took over. Pirse dodged under his uncle ’ s first lunge, swung the heel of his free hand against the side of the man ’ s head with bone-numbing force, leapt past Cratt ’ s lunging grab, and ran from the hall.
    * * *
    Palle rolled groggily to his hands and knees in time to see the prince disappear through the doorway at the far end of the great hall, Cratt three paces behind him. Palle staggered to his feet, groped for his sword where it had fallen at the edge of the dais, and ran after the pair.
    He caught up with Cratt halfway down the corridor, where the guard captain lay doubled-up on the floor. Head throbbing furiously, Palle shoved his boot under the man and flipped him over. Cratt clutched his ribs, breathing in broken gasps, but the only blood visible came from a gash on his forehead.
    “ Idiot! Why didn ’ t you stop him? ” Palle demanded.
    Cratt wouldn ’ t, or couldn ’ t, answer. Palle cursed him and hurried on. Perhaps it was for the best to have the guard captain out of the way. Palle gingerly touched the aching spot on his own skull. He found no blood, but it still hurt. One more score to settle with his beloved nephew.
    Lights guttered around the courtyard, and several guards were milling about near the entrance to the stables.
    “ Nerri! ” Palle shouted as he hurried down the stairs. The man he ’ d singled out turned an inquiring face toward him.
    “ Have you seen Prince Pirse? ”
    Nerri indicated the stable door. “ Yes, sir, he ’ s just getting a horse. ”
    Palle reached the bottom of the stairs. “ Stop him! ” he shouted. Heads turned in his direction, eyes widening at the sight of the naked blade in his hand. A clattering of hooves was clearly audible from the stone-flagged central aisle of the stable. Palle ran forward. “ Do you hear me? Stop the prince. He ’ s murdered our queen! ”
    On the other side of the courtyard one of the watching kitchen maids began to wail. The guards